Roommates
by Crazycatscarmen
Summary: Stanford has always had a roommate. Even in the womb, if you wanted to get technical. But when his brother is suddenly gone, he has to try and adapt to being alone. Of course, until his new roommate arrives. TW: Idek It's T so just...watch out for angst, I'm an angst train. UMMMMMM Hope ya'll don't hate me for this being my only update in like a year. UHHH BYEE! Don't die!
1. CHaPtEr OnE

**Missed you guys. For my more avid readers, who actually read all these bolded parts in my old and new stories...we've finally done it! WE'VE MOVED. AAAAAND we still don't have the house. Literally living in a friend's (very nice tbh) basement, but it's all good. We aren't in our old town anymore, so that's the important thing. I would honestly try to explain why it's taken so long but it's so confusing I'm too lazy to write it down. ANYway, I'm gonna be starting Public school again, and Uhhhhhh I feel woefully unprepared SO HERE'S TO THAT! **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Stanford sighed, taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes. The words on the page had started to blur, and not just because of his notoriously bad eyesight.

The concept wasn't a hard one, merely filled with so many nuances and untested theories, that staying on solid ground when it came to facts was nearly impossible. Hence his struggle to study and absorb the information in a timely manner.

Yes, he was far ahead of the class, but that was no excuse for the slow pace he'd been reading at.

He slumped back in his chair, putting his glasses back on and setting the book aside. He hated to take another break, but he was reaching his physical limit, something that he knew from past experience should never be reached, much less crossed.

Falling to the mattress that sat to the left of his desk, he glared at the ceiling.

College wasn't...what he'd expected? He snuggled deeper into the mixture of books and blankets around him. It wasn't that he was upset with how things were turning out, he certainly wasn't nearly as held back here as he was back in Jersey. Something was just... off.

If he were being honest with himself, (which he never was) he knew exactly what was wrong.

He shook his head as he closed his eyes, settling in to restore his basic bodily functions with a nap. There was no way he was going to even try thinking about it.

...

Stanford blinked as a knock sounded from the doorway. He stood up, his movements tense after sitting for so long. The knock persisted until he forced the stubborn door open.

He yelped, getting thrown backward towards his chair as something came barging into the room. He caught himself on the edge of his desk and looked up long enough to see a large stack of books swaying dangerously mid-air.

"What in the Federation- !" Stanford jumped up, catching the tower of books before they all scattered about the already unruly dorm room. He and the unknown arms of someone led the books to the unused bed in the corner of the room.

The books fell in a less-than-orderly pile onto the bed, revealing the mysterious trespasser.

Stanford blinked.

The man grinned, panting from the exertion of holding an entire library of textbooks. He stuck out his hand to Stanford, who took a step back in response.

"How- Howdy!" He began, taking back his hand to push his hair out of his face, "The name's Fiddleferd McGucket! Mighty sorry for fallin' inta the room like tha', but I lost mah balance there fer a moment." He smiled warmly, "I'm yer roommate!" He announced brightly.

Stanford frowned. Roommate? Yes, he was in a double dorm room- but no one had notified him about an actual _roommate. _

"I wasn't aware I'd be having a roommate any time soon." He voiced. Stanford took another tense step back. Why were _those_ the first words to come from him!?

The overly pleasant Fiddleford didn't seem to mind, but his smile did fall slightly. "Oh, well I'm sure this is the right room. I can double-check if you'd like...?" He asked hesitantly.

After a moment of silent deliberation, he shook his head. "No, I don't think that will be necessary." Stanford gestured to the mountain of books on the now occupied bed. "You don't seem like the kind of person to get drunk, burn my textbooks, and call me a nerd." He gave his new roommate a small smile. "I'll let you settle in. Before getting attacked by books, I was reading one."

Fiddleford was beaming again, "Tha' was oddly specific, but right ya are! I ain't here ta 'cause trouble or anythin'." He nodded to the desk Stanford had been sitting in before. "I reckon I can keep quiet while I settle in. Thank yah again for savin' mah textbooks an' all."

Stanford shrugged and turned away. "It's alright." He sat down at his desk, intending to end the conversation there. Picking up his pencil, he twisted it around with his fingers and returned to his reading. He didn't see or hear it as Fiddleford watched him with a curious glint in his eyes and grabbed several fallen books off the floor.

_An interesting development, _Stanford thought, _But not one I have to worry about. _

Although this new person in his life was unexpected, he assumed it wouldn't affect him too greatly. By the sheer number of books the man had, he was probably more intellectually inclined than most people Stanford was forced to associate with. He gripped the edge of the desk, pulling himself closer to glare at his notes from before.

This was fine. He was _fine._

_... _

Stanford wasn't fine.

He jerked awake, the feeling of being chased still rushing through his frame. His pupils were dilated, his breathing heavy. He stuck his fist into his mouth, trying to slow his heartbeat as he slowly came back to reality.

_It was just a dream. __Just a dream._ He repeated to himself, not quite believing it yet. He nearly screamed when he realized the bed was shaking until he noticed that he was shivering.

He forced himself into an upright position with his feet and tried to settle back into rational thought.

_I'm at Backupsmore University. I'm in my dorm with my roommate- _

_"_Stanferd?"

Stanford jumped, hitting his head on the wall beside him.

Well, at least that stopped the shivering. He groaned, rubbing at his head as light filled the room.

_Great, now you've woken him_ _up._ He berated himself.

Fiddleford, who was now standing in the doorway, his hand hovering over the lightswitch, made a small noise of concern. "Stanferd, I think a heard another mouse-" He cut himself off, eyes wide. "What in tarnation Stanferd! Are yah alrigh'!?"

Fiddleford, who hadn't realized the noise was coming from the shaking of Stanford's bed, gaped at his usually stoic roommate.

Stanford was a mess. His hair was clinging to his face, his eyes bloodshot and red with tears he hadn't realized he'd been shedding. His entire frame had shrunken in on itself.

He tried to say something but only managed to throw himself into a coughing fit.

_Oh please_ _no._

* * *

Fiddleford shifted on his feet. He didn't know what to do.

Stanford was... an interesting roommate at the best of times. He rarely slept, never cleaned, and was often running around the campus all morning until he locked himself in their dorm from noon until four a.m. In fact, this was the first time they had fallen asleep at roughly the same time.

In saying that, Fiddleford hadn't gotten to know the man very well. All he _really_ knew about the guy was that he didn't talk much. Muttered under his breath sometimes, but not much of a talker.

Not with Fiddleford anyway.

So when he turned on the light, he was expecting to see a still mostly asleep roommate looking for a mouse too. Instead, he got...this.

A sweaty, upset, vulnerable looking man-child. It was that moment that Fiddleford recalled just how young they still were.

He couldn't lie, it was unsettling to behold.

"Stanferd?" He began, taking a step away from the wall. He noticed that Stanford was rubbing his head. "Do ya- do ya want me to turn off the light again?" He asked. Maybe this was just how Stanford was when he was woken up unexpectedly. He didn't really believe that though, it seemed like Stanford was awake long before he had turned on the light.

The troubled man shook his head and uttered something under his breath. Fiddleford raised a brow.

"Ah, didn't catch tha' last part."

Stanford finally looked up and rasped out a proper response, "It was just a dream."

Fiddleford watched, brow furrowing as Stanford threw himself out of the bed and stepped into his shoes.

"It was just a- yeah, I'm going for a walk." He moved to the door, stumbling over his own feet.

Fiddleford knew they weren't close, but he couldn't stop himself. He reached out and pulled Stanford away from the door by his shirt, making him fall to the ground. He yelped, making Fiddleford wince.

"M'Sorry, but I ain't lettin' yah walk around campus like tha'." He reached out his hand to help pull him up.

For once, Stanford actually held out his hand in return. That's when Fiddleford noticed something off.

Six fingers? Fiddleford archived the information for later. He didn't really care, but it explained why the guy always had his hands in his pockets. Although he had to wonder why he hadn't noticed before. They'd been bunking together for three weeks now, you think that he would have seen them that first day.

Stanford, now standing, looked at him with concern. Or at least, that's what Fiddleford thought it was, even though it didn't make much sense. _He_ wasn't the one having a mental breakdown at three a.m after all.

Fiddleford bit his lip. Now what? What do you do with a nineteen-year-old college student who doesn't even bother with small talk? He blinked when Stanford began searching the room, stumbling around.

"Woah, be careful!" Fiddleford jumped when the sleep-deprived student hit a wall.

"I'm-" Stanford's eyes went wide. "Where is he?"

Frowning, Fiddleford took a step closer. "Where is who?"

"Him."

"Be more specific, Stanferd."

(Obviously, his roommate wasn't in his right mind, but Fiddleford decided to ignore that and try and figure out _why_ he was acting so peculiar.)

"My brother! _Where is he." _

Fiddleford felt like he was being hit with a train. Repeatedly. Stanford had a brother. Or at the very least an imaginary one.

OkAy ThEn.

"M' sorry Stanferd, but I don't know where ya brother is." He told the panicking man.

Stanford didn't seem to hear him. That's when Fiddleford realized Stanford must have fallen asleep again.

_On his feet? Really? _Fiddleford thought, moving to lead his...were they friends?

_Well, we are now. _He decided. He led his friend back to his bed and made him sit down. Fiddleford wasn't sure what to do with a sleepwalker but letting him stumble around a maze of books and old take out containers seemed like a not-very-good idea.

He sighed with relief when Stanford didn't move anymore and hesitantly moved away to his own bed.

He wasn't sure how to feel, but he did know he was going to need all his energy for the morning. They were going to be having a talk, whether Stanford wanted one or not.

* * *

**As usual, not actually edited. EDIT: I'VE EDITED THIS. Lol, I reread this today and was bothered by the spelling errors and double use of the same phrases sooooooo. Um, also a new chapter is comin'! **

** I was kinda rushed with this but I hope this was worth yer time! I was gonna take it in an entirely different direction, and I think I'm gonna post the original draft of this first chapter later on. I like it, I just was too lazy to try and post it using my phone. This is the first time I've written on the laptop in months! So hence the non-updates. I have some more stories in the works on my phone, so watch out for those! **

**Btw, I've gotten really into Megamind these last few weeks...so if anyone wants to see a Megamind fanfiction, look out for that! It'll come...eventually. **

**Ford: You...completely derailed from the original idea you had. This is nothing like the rough draft or your idea for the story! **

**Me: hahah yeah I'm silly like that**

**Ford: How do you even maintain a proper schedule!? This is ridiculous. **

**Me: I don't. **

**Stan: Haha, same. Isn't that what kids say? Same? **

**Ford: Don't start.**

**_M'sorry guys idk if this even makes sense. _**


	2. Ayye guess who wrote another chapter?

**And I'm back with that chapter I promised! mwahaha ACTUALLY KEEPING PROMISES is TI GH T! Unlike the way I spaced that word! ANyWaY ON WITH THE SHOW!  
**

* * *

Stanford was...confused.

He woke up, which wasn't the problem. What's so confusing about waking up? Unless you wake up after a really 'f_un'_ night. Or like...you get kidnapped. But I'm getting distracted! The real problem was _how_ he woke up.

He blinked awake, his mind drawn from the depths of sleep by a familiar smell.

"_Coffee-" _He rolled out of bed, not even bothering to find his glasses first before heading straight towards where he _thought_ the coffee was. Some might say this amount of sleep-deprived enthusiasm for an unhealthy drink was an inherently _bad_ thing. They would be right.

He stumbled forward, catching himself on the back of his chair. A finger tapped his shoulders and that's when he twisted upright again, startled.

"I don' reckon I've ever seen anybody so excited fer a cuppa!" Stanford felt, rather than saw, someone else's hand take his own and place a cup in it.

If he flinched, the other man- _Fiddleford, _Stanford realized - didn't mention it. Instead, his roommate took his other hand, giving him his glasses. Stanford hummed appreciatively and put them on at the same time he began to gulp his free drink.

By the time he put the empty cup down, his glasses had fogged up. He could see just enough to witness the amused smile of his fellow student as he put down his drink.

"Um."

Stanford usually tried to wake up before his... were they friends? He didn't know. Well, he tried to wake up before Fiddleford. Or, preferably, not go to sleep at all. Not because he detested waking up at the same time as everyone else, it was just easier. How was he supposed to explain what had just occurred, for example?

He turned away from Fiddleford, who was waiting for him to say something, presumably. That's when he realized he was half wearing an unlaced tennis shoe. So that's why he couldn't walk straight.

"What the-" He began, kicking the shoe off.

"You sleepwalk."

He stiffened, turning back to Fiddleford. Stalling, he took off his glasses to wipe away the remaining steam that lingered there.

Oh, that was worse. Now he could see the exact facial expression Fiddleford was giving him. He wasn't sure what the single word definition was, but it looked like a half-smirk worried frown. He cleared his throat.

"...Yes."

Fiddleford straightened up, "Oh, well I'm glad ya already know. Ya were stumblin' around las' night, hittin' yer head on the walls. I wasn't sure what ta do, so I jus'... made yah sit down." Now that they were talking, Fiddleford seemed to become increasingly uncomfortable.

(Stanford certainly was, but was doing his best to ignore the feeling for the time being.)

He held his hand to his chin, thinking.

He always knew about his sleepwalking. It wasn't something that happened often, so normally it wasn't a problem. Even if it was, he always had Stanl-

Anyway, he hadn't slept walked in years. Not that he would remember if he had. As it seemed to be the case now.

Feeling as though the air was growing thicker with every passing moment, Stanford took a step back and tried to breathe.

"Er, Stanferd?"

He looked up and nodded, giving Fiddleford a silent cue to continue.

Fiddleford sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. By the time his hand fell he was smiling. "Stanferd. We haven' really conversed much since I moved in, an' ta be hones' it's wearin' me down. I don' mind tha' yah don' wanna talk, but I don' wanna have'ta worry about yah either. I dunno exactly how ta explain it- yah always keep ter yer half of the room an' all, but I just can't help feelin' drained."

Stanford blinked. Was- was Fiddleford talking about being social drained by him? That...didn't make sense, logically. Stanford rarely even interacted with Fiddleford. In fact, since that first day, this was the longest conversation he held.

_And the only one who's said anything in Fiddleford. _He realized. He almost wanted to laugh._ Is my not participating in socializing actually harder on him? _

Stanford was about to say something, an apology perhaps, but Fiddleford beat him to it.

"An' not knowin' anythin' about yah is a little hard on mah too. I don't mind yah keepin' ta yerself, I just can't handle some of the surprises without a bit of forewarnin', ya know?" Fiddleford gestured to the books he had stacked neatly next to his bed. "Remember when I fell inta the room tha' first day? It's like tha'. Except fer everyday with ya!" His voice raised an octave. "I- I'm used ta clutter an' late night's but what was I supposed ta do when ya started bangin' yer head against walls an'- an' tryin' ta walkout tha' door with only one shoe!?"

After his final exclamation, the already small man seemed to deflate, a look of shock painted over his own features.

Stanford's mouth gaped just slightly. Had it really been that bad? He swallowed.

"Um. I'm sorry?"

Fiddleford glanced up and huffed. "Nah, M'sorry Stanferd. I- we aren't really close or anythin', I know tha'. But yah scared me outta mah wits las' night with all yer shakin' and askin' fer yer brother or whatever non-sense you were mumblin'," He rubbed at his eyes, "I should'a let it go."

Stanford, who had gone stiff at the word 'brother', shook his head. "What!? No!"

Fiddleford jumped and stared at him, "What."

"Ah, No I meant- alright." Stanford began nervously. "I'm sorry Fiddleford, you're right. I haven't really been very sociable. That's my fault, I just didn't realize it would have such a profound effect on you. Nor was I expecting to have any bouts of sleepwalking anytime soon." Stanford bit his lip and very abruptly realized how frazzled he must look. After the night they'd had and the fact that he had barely jumped out of bed probably made for a terrible sight. He thought about the coffee Fiddleford had brought. How worried was this guy to be so nice to him?

Stanford watched a small smile appear on Fiddleford's face.

"Well, I reckon that's the most I've ever heard yah say ta me, Stanferd!" He laughed. The tension, previously thick enough to choke on, eased somewhat.

"Oh." Stanford gave a weak 'ha'. "I um, yes. Well, to address the original issue," He began, gettin' Fiddleford's full attention, "I used to sleepwalk quite a bit when I was...younger and my brother would usually be there. Before you ask, he's- he's dead." Stanford bit his knuckle.

Fiddleford's entire countenance softened, "Oh."

Stanferd shook his head, "It was several years ago- I- it's fine. But um," Stanford tried to think of something else to say. He wanted to scream, why was socializing so hard!? He just needed to explain why he was a _freak_ then he could go back to studying and Fiddleford wouldn't have to worry anymore. Right? Wasn't that what he was trying to achieve?

"_I- we aren't really close or anythin'-" _

Stanford bit his lip. _Was_ that what he was trying to do? He didn't know. He started to get lost in thought, leaving Fiddleford to draw him back to reality.

"Stanferd? Earth ta Stanferd!" Fiddleford waved a hand over his face.

Jerking back to reality, Stanford hummed.

"What? What did I miss?" He blinked, seeing Fiddleford and suddenly remembering where he was.

Fiddleford raised a brow. "Yah do that often?"

"Uh, not always." He sighed, "Look, um, Fiddleford. I think we got off to a... eh, start. Why don't we start over?"

Stanford held out his hand, ignoring the ball of lead bouncing back and forth in his stomach, "Greetings. I'm Stanford Pines." He gave Fiddleford a small smile and mentally screamed, hoping to Mars and back that this was okay- that he wasn't being an idiot-

Fiddleford glanced at his offered hand, brows raising for a moment. He slowly grinned. "Nice ta meet yah, Stanferd! I'm Fiddleferd. Fiddleferd McGucket, at yer service."

* * *

**Aha what is this. BECAUSE I DON'T KNOOOOOOW- **

**JEofajepkepojxpwomjrnoe ijPOIJPJPEISJf PE jepiwaj OH MY GOSH PECK GOODNESS. I'm so tired it's like- not even one a.m yet and I'm already crashing. BUt that's oKAAY Because of Blueberry jam and pineapple ham ahahahah **

**BILL: WOAH! SOMEONE'S LOOKIN' A LITTLE YELLOW THERE! I'll ADMIT, IT'S NOT A GOOD COLOR ON YOU FLESHSACKS. **

**ME: Aha very funny where is Stan and Ford. **

**BILL: WELL IT'S A FUNNY STORY! THEY DECIDED THEY DIDN'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE AND- **

**Me: Don't lie to me, where'd they go. **

**BILL: I'M NOT- **

***Enters Stan, wielding his trusty dusty knuckledusters *: I SMELL A DORITO. **

**Ford: DIE BILL DIE- **

**Me: Am I delusional or is this the funniest end card I've ever written? **

_**I'm sorry again I'm so high or something I need sleep Ily guys don't die I hope ya'll like this because again idk if it makes sense. This also isn't edited...like at all. **_


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